Trick or Treat
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: No candy involved. Author's Note - this celebrates my 50th Phil of the Future Story!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I did not toilet paper Mickey Mouse's Clubhouse because it's too goofy. I did it because I do not own Phil of the Future.

**Author's Note: What to do when one is too grown up to go door to door demanding candy and yet there's no Halloween-themed episode of Phil of the Future on the Disney Channel? Pen one, obviously!**

TRICK or TREAT

by CraftyNotepad

It's the harvest season, October, the calendar filled up with Pickford produce fairs galore, and, of course, Halloween. That still means pumpkin carving time in Pickford, and whatever you say about Pim Diffy's adapting to life a century before she emerged from her natal pod (say it in a whisper when she's out of town), she carves some of the scariest pumpkin portraits that have ever been whittled from a gourd. Not a scam, hustle or racket, for once, Pim Diffy is actually running a legitimate enterprise. Her mother predicts Pim will be a brain surgeon when she grows up. Mr. Diffy is disturbed by how mirthful his daughter becomes while she operates, and spends considerable time each October trying to dissuade his first born from believing his ears - Phil insists that his sister happily talks to the pumpkins as she scopes out their guts with glee and whilest she does, she calls them all "Phil."

20th Century-born Keely Teslow is a regular visitor at Phil Diffy's house, but today she's come here to see Pim. To spice up her studio set at school for the upcoming holiday broadcast, Keely would like a traditional orange vegetable sporting truly mind-numbing expression for her morning broadcast, and she wants it to be a surprise for Phil.

Phil.

Keely ... is fond of ... Phil, yet it would be a nice change for her to surprise her Mister Know-It-All once in a while, which isn't so easy to accomplish when dealing with someone to whom the latest news is last century's news, and who can giggle up everything about anything. This, for some reason, Keely doesn't think her Phi- ... friend ... will see coming.

Peering into the nearby garage, she can just make out Lloyd and his first born fiddling with some glowy future technology behind Curtis's couch and even catches Lloyd exclaiming something that sounds like "hot popsicles," before deciding it'll be safe to slip into the house through the kitchen door.

Inside the garage, Phil corrects his progenitor, "I think the correct phrase is 'hot fudgesicles', Dad."

"Really? But that makes no sense at all."

Classic Phil's father, Keely mentally notes with a smirk, before walking up the back steps and entering the kitchen. Surprise! Pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns are perched throughout the kitchen, atop the counter, table, and even hiding in the window sills whimsically wearing shortened bathroom shower curtains. They are distributed everywhere, as are the errant pumpkin guts and strong aroma from dozens of newly dispatched holiday gourds. Phil's little sister is busy. This is practically a cottage industry she has going here, and Keely knew Pim had done it all without wielding her wizrd, for she too had heard Pim talking to her pumpkins.

"Poor Phil," Keely said aloud, even as she admired Pim Diffy's handiwork. Who would have guessed that Pim had a creative bone in her body, aside from coming up with new ways in which to annoy her brother? "Who knew she ... she ... SHEEEEE!"

Keely leaps backward in horror, for there among the pumpkin heads is a ... a human head - PIM'S OWN MOTHER! Mercifully, Barbara Diffy's eyes were closed, while her severed head was just sitting next to a half-carved jack-o-lantern. "How could Pim do this? Is this why her carved pumpkins look so life like?"

From the dining room, Keely heard, "Why, yes, Teslow, it is. See one you fancy, or did you come to model for me?"

It was the pint-sized butcher, herself. So in shock over finding Barbara Diffy's disembodied noggin, Keely hadn't noticed the fiend herself calmly coming up behind her with a knife.

"Pim, how many times have I told you not to walk around with sharp objects," snapped the disembodied noggin of Phil's mother, her eyes now open wide. Keely screamed, shocking Barbara, who cluelessly asked her, "What's a matter, Keely?"

Her heart in her throat, Keely stuttered, "Mmuh, muh-muhh, Muhh, murdered muh-muh-mother." Pim smiled her toothiest grin. "Pim, you muh-murdered your mother."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Apple, apple, walnut, a quarter, family-sized chocolate bar, … Moldy gumdrops, I was hoping Disney would place Phil of the Future in my pillowcase this All Hallows Eve, or at least broadcast the cupcake episode. Since I still don't own Phil of the Future, guess I'll be toilet papering the Disney Channel building again this year.

Author's Note:** Thanks go out to James888 for asking his inspiring question.**

**TRICK or TREAT**

by CraftyNotepad

Conceivably Keely could have been convinced that her conclusion was correct; Barbara Diffy had been murdered ... if it just wasn't for the giggling. Pim Diffy cackled maniacally, but the girl wouldn't be caught, um, "dead" giggling. And then, there was the disembodied head of Phil's mom, first upset with Pim for walking about her pumpkin lacerating device, then surprised over Keely's reaction, and now looking quite jovial and carefree about Keel's accusal of Pim doing her in. Something was fishy here, and it wasn't the pumpkins. Probably another 22nd Century wack-a-doo gizmo that made Mrs. D's head "appear" to be sitting on the table.

Keely stretched out her index finger in the head's direction.

"Keely, Keely, Kee- don't poke me."

Keely poked. Real.

Must be some function of the Wizrd which allowed Pim's mom to merger her molecules within the counter and just leave her head poking out. As Keely was bending down to check out her theory, there was a clamoring going on behind her. Keely caught just a glimpse before experiencing her second heart attack of the day. GAHH! Keely recognized that it was Barbara Diffy again, mostly. Her body, everything but Barb's head, was ricocheting about the kitchen, slamming into cabinets and walls, grasping in empty space for something - Barbara's head? Pim was on the floor attempting to keep her own innards where they should be despite her uncontrollable fit of hysterics.

From the backyard, Phil and his father scrambled into the kitchen.

"Sorry, everyone. Kind of got away from us while we were resetting the parameters. Guess I must have activated the homing system and it sorted of homed," apologized Lloyd.

Both he and Phil attempted to get their hands on Barbara's body, confounded by flailing arms and legs. Sneaking up from behind, Lloyd wrapped his large arms arm his wife's shoulders and worked his way down. Slowly he pinned her upper body, first her upper arms, next her forearms, against her body; her legs kicked all the harder and higher. Viewing it later on Barbara's Wizrd, Keely wished she had enjoyed this scene more, Phil and Pim's dad performing some strange future dance of some sort with his wife's body, all the while their son was part staying clear of his mother's crazed clog dance and part attempting to lasso her legs with a twisted dish towel, and having about the same luck doing both. Eventually though, they managed to achieve controlled chaos, and had an active supervisor. Barbara, her head now floating in the air from a safe distance, was directing the guys to not damage her body. Lloyd and Phil looked at one another, both wanting, but knowing better than to answer with the obvious as her legs and arms continued to bruise them for their good intentions. Yes, something odd was definitely happening here, odd even for the Diffys, but at least the upper portion of Barbara Diffy appeared none too stressed over the situation, particularly about being dissected, and neither were any of her family members.

"Kelly, Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm, I'm fine, Mrs. Diffy. Are you?"

Mrs. D sported a reassuring grin, "Just dandy. My robot body needed its twenty thousand hour maintenance, that's all."

"So, you're a floaty head with a robot body? Does everyone in the future have a robotic ..." Keely's voice trailed off as her mind pictured her Phil as a head propped up by an erector set.

"Most don't. I'm somewhat special."

Special? Well, maybe, Keely considered, then blurted out, "Mrs. Diffy, you have a navel! Phil doesn't."

True enough, as Barbara Diffy's arms ineffectually search for her head, and her body wrestled with her husband and son, her blouse sometimes lifted to reveal an innie belly button, even now it could be seen.

"Yes, I had installed as an after market accessory. Unfortunately, it doesn't produce its own belly button lint. Of all the rare things people collected from cars to can openers, who would have ever believed navel dandruff would be so valuable one day, Keely?"

Pim interrupted, "Never mind that, Mom. How does Keely know Phil doesn't have a belly button?"

Keely stammered, before truthfully answering, "A reporter notices things," while becoming bright red.

Pim is impressed. "What do you know, the truth? Didn't see that coming, Stretch."

In truth, just for an instant, Keely considered making up some ill-conceived excuse involving half-price halter tops, but after months of her coming up with explanations for the strange goings on at the Diffys to outsiders, she had learned that no one got much past Mrs. Diffy for long.

"You shouldn't lie to your parents, Pim," Keely admonished. "Besides, most mothers have 'lie-dar,' and **your mom has a good head on her shoul-.**" Both Keely's hands slapped her mouth closed. How could she have said that? Her eyelids clamped shut in shame. Keely must have zoned out for a few moments, as the next thing she later recalled was Mrs. Diffy laughing, calling her name, and rubbing her levitating noggin next to hers.

"Let's go, Phil," Lloyd grunted. "Your mother isn't getting any lighter."

Keely watch her friend and his father lug out most of his mother as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Once outside, the situation altered at once.

"Happy Halloween, the Diffys," a nosy Mr. Hackett announce to the body touting duo.

"Yeah, uh, Happy Halloween," replied the two male Diffys.

"Happy Halloween, BarBARARARA!"

"I can explain this. Phil, explain this."

"Well, Mr. Hackett -"

"You ghoulish Diffys! Say, that looks very realistic. You folks are really going all out for your haunted house."

Lloyd responded without thinking, "Haunted house? Oh, yeah, right. Haunted house."

Inside Neil Hackett's head, the needle swung into the red on his suspicion meter as he watched the pair transport a wriggling decapitated corpse into the garage.

_Author's Note:_** I know I said one more chapter, Boris.** Uh, I think I mean it this time: "One more chapter coming up." -CN


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hey, here's an idea. Let's all go out trick-or-treating together as the Phil of the Future cast. We'll ring the Disney Channel execs' doorbells. Candy? We don't want no stinking candy! Fork over Phil of the Future or we'll tee-pee your house. No, not toilet paper, Dillweeds. We're from Pickford where T and P stand for "Tomato Paste." Yeah, you better go get it; writers like us are tired of not owning Phil of the Future.

Author's Note: Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty - oh, sorry. You caught me right in the middle of holding my breath until Disney leaks the Phil of the Future out takes. Check out Keely's already icing covered hands when she falls atop her smiley birthday cake. Oh, yeah. That wasn't done in just one take.

**TRICK or TREAT**

by CraftyNotepad

As Lloyd and his first NIRDed child entered the side doorway into their garage, Neil Hackett could make out a new voice, one filled with unhappy tones.

"L**Loy**D.** F**iL. Where you g**O**? Wipe F**EE**t! BarB**RA** sad. No **E**ve**N** s**MiL**e ... LLoy**D** p**LaY** too **RuF**! **Ba**D **LLoy**D."

"She'll be fine, Curtis. Just wait and see. Dad will make her happy again."

Then the door to the garage slammed closed.

Back in the kitchen, Keely had defaulted into domestic mode, picking up pumpkin chunks littered about from Barbara's body's recent impromptu game of Twister. Pim supervised.

"Hey, Sunshine, there are some orange bits under the table."

Bodiless or not, Barbara could still manage to issue a disapproving look at her daughter.

"What?" Pim feigned innocence. "Helping."

"I'm sure Keely appreciates your help, and will appreciate you all the more as you now clean up the remaining remains."

"How many? Five?"

"All of them, Pim."

"Grmulbe, grumlbe, grumbel, grumble, ..."

"What was that?"

"I said, 'Grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble, this is so boring."

"I could tell you a story."

"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! SEE? I'm cleaning, Mommy, REALLY! Smiling, happy just to be on my knees scraping up pumpkin vomit. I'm on my knees, Mom, begging you to sing, gargle, ANYTHING - anything but a story."

"Keely, would you like to hear a story?"

Keely wondered if Mrs. Diffy realized how much she appreciated being a part of this family, even if right now Mrs. Diffy didn't understand that she was treating her like Keely was a three-year-old. A story? Keely was an almost adult type person, a school reporter. Why, people listened intensely to Keely Teslow telling stories, not the other way around.

"I'd love to, Mrs. Diffy," Keely answered, adding that certain lilt in her response which added excitement.

"Do you want to hear about shopping again? How about in Rome around 500 B.C.E.?" eagerly pitched Barbara Diffy, but when she noticed frown lines surfacing upon her young listener-to-be's forehead, added, "or in 2121?"

Pim groaned, but was mostly ignored by her companions. The corners of Keely's mouth perked up a bit, but somehow Pim's mom's descriptions of future shopping paled to Keely's virtu-goggle visits there.

"Fluffy Sausages!" could be heard being sworn from out in the Diffys' garage. Though it wasn't going well in the repair the robot department, Mr. Diffy's outburst cause Keely to chortle.

"Mrs. Diffy, how did you and Mr. Diffy meet?"

Not so much a groan, as a moan, was voiced by Pim. Ignoring her daughter's wishes yet again (there was still pumpkin bits about, after all), Barbara Diffy flashed back to her college days and how she met Lloyd.

"But I thought schooling in the future was all virtual-thingy," Keely countered to Barbara explaining how she met Lloyd through his roommate.

"You're correct, Keely. It is, but colleges have fought this trend - they're more than about learning. Some would say that the education offered in the classrooms even in this century is incidental at best. College is about being away from home, freedom, meeting new people, being exposed to other perspectives, dating -"

"My father's roommate," slipped in the pumpkin scraper impishly.

"HIS ROOMMATE?" blurted Barb's intense listener.

If she had hands at this moment, Barb would have been using one of them to loosen her choker. Was it getting warm in here? "Well, yes, I did - go out - once or twice with Lloyd's college roommate. Rex."

"Grandma Speckle says you almost married him."

"Pim. I think I see some orange under the drain board. We may just have to rethink our little arrangement regarding your kitchen privileges." Pim got the message loud and clear where it registered, her pocketbook.

"Now, where was I?"

Uncomfortable as this was making her, Keely was aware that she was expected to say something to fill up this silence. In typical Teslow style, smiling, she did so to make the person she was with at ease, "You had just met Mr. Diffy."

"Right. Now, Lloyd didn't catch my eye at first, just polite 'hiyahs' when I entered the room, but as time went by we had more time to talk ..."

Pim's mind drifted for she had heard this story so many times before, and Grandma told it better.

Author's Note: Oh, Great Pumpkin, if i could have maybe just one more chapter, I think I could wrap up this tale. What? Why do you doubt my sincerity? Oh, yeah? Hey, Pim! I found another one for you to start carving on ...


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Here's a sweet deal. I'll trade this entire pillowcase filled with Halloween candy for the rights to Phil of the Future that Disney isn't using anyway. I'll even throw in a bushel of Pickford's finest tomatoes. No tricks.

**Author's Note:** Welcomed greetings to two new Phil of the Future authors, **TheWritingFreak** and **ProtegoMaximaMyHeart**.

TRICK or TREAT

by CraftyNotepad

GGGGLLLLlllllllliiiiii...

The whiring ...

Grandmother Speckle's touring skycar lands automatically, its roof partially detaching, raising slightly, before telescoping backward into itself while the vehicle's hood neatly divides itself in two. Darkness filled the interior the entire trip, now she feels pushed into the light as the Harvest moonlight invades the passenger compartment, followed closely behind by a screaming wind with its collection of dead dried Fall leaves. She doesn't want to go, seconds pass before there is movement. She didn't want to come. She doesn't want to be here. Alone. Almost. She reached for a hand, there, but then pulled her best friend in front of her, as if she was a human shield. Scared, as one, they exited the skycar by way of little baby steps. The others didn't come. Their choice or weren't wanted. Said she was lucky, that she'd have fun. Smiled when they told her those lies before sending her off alone. Alone. She clutched the doll closer to her chest. It could go first.

Waiting inside would be Grandmother. Grandmother Speckle didn't want Pim's brother to come, loud, wiggly, mischievous and, worst of all, fingernail dug out boogers, their remains on her good furniture, and it did still look respectable, despite Phil's playing stay-off-the-carpet, bouncing from cushion to overstuffed pillow of the Neo Medieval furnishings. No, she'd settle for Pim until Barbara and her husband sent her yet another invitation for a NIRDay emergence.

For all the limits of the Speckle's wealth, the domicile succeeded in conveying a sense of elegance and old bloodlines - it's all pretentious nonsense perpetrated by Barbara's mother has existed since before she had Barbara. Grandmother Speckle, once a young woman, one with aspirations, judged her success in life in the eyes of others - not friend or family, mind you, but strangers whom she'd like to be associated with, though not necessary spend time with. It all boiled down to appearances, so imagine the blow to her ego when her two-year-old daughter contracted systemic hiatus and the astrosurgeons, doing all they could with late 21st Century medicine, managed only to save Barbara's important bits, not cure her. Her condition slowly continued to progress, leaving nothing of her below the neck before it was at last halted in her teenage years. Lucky for Pim, Natal Pods were invented, but right now that wasn't on her two-and-a-half year old mind.

Behind her, the front doors automatically closed. Even if Pim hadn't have known the way, it wasn't that large a home despite the high ceilings making her feel even smaller. She'd been here before, even recognized the odd sounds echoing in front of her. Grandma was working.

Grandmother Speckle is magnetically sculpting ferrous-laced antiques, her current creation in a long line which has earned her an invitation into the world of the neo-elite. Pointing without looking in her granddaughter's direction, Granny Speckle commands Pimmy to bring her the largest of the antiques. With some exertion, Li'l Pim manages, and the ancient Mickey Mouse telephone is raised into the belly of the creation-in-progress. Finally, Barbara's mother takes a moment to look at her visitor and is struck by the fact that she's little larger than the phone. Magnetically slapping on a few antiquated cell phones, Gran tells apprentice to show her her muscles and imitating her Gran's pose, she does.

"You have Speckle muscles, Pim. Never forget that."

Li'l Pim doesn't, yet she isn't quite three and processed words as a toddler does. She beams back uttering,"'Speshal' muscles."

"'Speckle' muscles," immediately corrects firm Grandmother Speckle.

"Pim speshal muscles."

"SPECKLE, Pim. SPECKLE," enunciates an easily exasperated grandmama.

"PIM SPECIAL! SPECIAL!" nearly echoes a trying Pim, looking to her graying elder for approval.

Grandmother Speckle lets a sigh escape instead. This one iss going to take a lot of time and work, but at least she's more cooperative than her brother. So young, so moldable ... Veni, Vidi, Vici, grandmother smiled and began scheming. She'd sculpt this one in her image. She'd never need know why her parents truly got married.

Of course, Mother Speckle underestimated the influence her daughter and son-in-law would have upon their own child. Oh, the sculptress made her own impression upon her intended masterpiece, her protégée, but Pim didn't turn out the way she intended. And how Barbara and Lloyd met and fell in love? Oh, Barbara loved telling the story so much that Pim new it by heart, and felt tortured each time her mother told it - as she was about to to Keely in the Diffys' pumpkin patch of a kitchen right about now ...

**Author's Note:** You didn't _really_ want to hear Pim's grandmother's lies about Phil's parents did you? Trick-or-Treat! Okay, okay! Put down the raw eggs. Geez, some people can't take a joke ... okay, ONE MORE CHAPTER. This time I really, really mean it. Next time the true love story of Lloyd and Barbara. Bring your own pumpkin pie.

Okay, who threw that egg?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: BOO! Did I scare you? Sorry. I don't own Phil of the Future. I'm sorry about that, too.

**Author's Note: Thanks again to James888 for inspiring this story.**

**Special thanks go out to Boris Yeltsin for faithfully reviewing each chapter.**

TRICK or TREAT

by CraftyNotepad

The floor in the Diffys' kitchen wasn't becoming much cleaner since Phil's little sister took over pumpkin pick up duty from Keely Teslow. Nevertheless, Pim had remained mostly silent - no grumbling, just quiet groans. Her mother loved her; Pim knew this - she didn't understand it, but she accepted it as fact. Barbara knew her daughter, and was confident that despite Pim's coarse and gruff ways, Pim found security in knowing she was loved by her parents. Their little girl ... of course, right now, Pim was taking a back seat to the wide-eyed Keely Teslow, not in Barbara Diffy's heart, but a fresh audience to tell her favorite story to? No contest. Sorry Pimster.

Barbara had glossed over her involvement with Rex to Keely for good reason. The way her mother told the story, Rex, the astrosurgeon-to-be, was the perfect catch. Handsome, charming, attentive, soon to be filthy rich, he not only would be able to provide for Barbara and their offspring, she'd be marrying an a doctor. With protective intentions, Gammy Speckle was trying to look out for her little head of a daughter's future, imagining that she'd need further treatments in the future. An astrosurgeon went to the top of her list of husbands for her daughter.

Barbara knew the truth about Rex, though. Sure, he spent a great deal of time with her at first and she believed he was taking their relationship seriously, but Barbara was only fooling herself. Rex was dating lots of college women and while Barbara Speckle was unique, Rex was only interested in bragging rights. For the rest of his life, he'd recall to his own listeners that he once dated a woman who was dead from the neck down, and contrast Barbara to the women he had had whom were dead from the neck up. When a guy doesn't perceive a woman's value as any more than a conquest, he tires of her rapidly. Poor Barbara soon couldn't find Rex as available as he recently was. Not ready to be committed to a relationship except with himself, Rex preferred to do his dating smorgesbord style, a little of everything on his plate. Loyal Barbara often waited at his dorm room, clueless at first that she was being dumped by way of avoidance. By the time she put two and two together, things weren't so bad. All that waiting for Rex to be available was what presented time for Barbara to notice shy Lloyd, which was what Keely wanted to hear about, not Rex.

"Did Mr. Diffy shower you with gifts and clothes and pull fantastic tricks with his Wizrd?"

Not a frown, but her trademark smile, tilt of her head, and singsongy mother-knows-best voice appeared, "Better."

Keely tried taking that in.

"Spill, Mrs. D. Details, please?"

"Well ..." Barbara was milking this, enjoying a new person to tell her story to, probably the only person she'd be telling this story to for a long time if they were permanently stranded in this century - at least until Pim and Phil provider her with grandchildren to babysit. Suddenly, panic struck Barb as she wondered if Pim knew how babies were born in this century. Oh well, back to her story. "Lloyd started by giving me rings."

"Phone calls? Jewelery? Onion rings? C'mon, previous century girl here, remember?" inquired Keely, slightly distracted by the multitude of pumpkin faces which seemed to be peering her direction rather than listening to Barbara's recollections. Keels lifted the lid off of the one she had been resting her right arm upon, just to verify that it was empty and an ordinary gourd. A sigh of relief signified it was.

"No, Keely. Bigger and better. You know the saying, 'I'd give you the moon'?"

"Sure."

"Well, Lloyd and I had already spent quite a bit of time together talking while I was waiting for, you know. By the time of our first major date, I was curious as to what dating Pim's father would be like."

Pim let the opening line pass by untouched, resulting in a stomach cramp.

"Back in those days, Lloyd could really keep a secret. He asked me to close my eyes and when I opened them we were seated in a couple of small aisle seats on the 3 o'clock Saturn budget shuttle. We sat across from each other, separated by the aisle; our heats beating; me staring at the planet's rings and moons; Lloyd staring at me; soon, I was staring at Lloyd, with only the aisle between us. It wasn't long before nothing could separate us."

Keely dreams about what Phil would do in that situation. He is, afterall, his father's son in so many ways. Phil is into baseball. Lloyd collects astronaut cards. Phil plays the drums. Lloyd plays a mean mouth harp. Both guys are loyal and real. Lloyd isn't a phoney anymore than Phil is, unless she counts pretending they are from Canada, Middle America, or whatever lame story they could come up with off their cuffs. Keely would have continued, but the fog cleared from her head when she realized that Mrs. Diffy was still talking.

"... for me, and I listened to old timey music for him. That my mother couldn't tolerate folk music, and since she didn't warm up to Lloyd, I enjoyed the songs all the more."

"Really?"

"Well, as far as my mother knew."

"AH HA!" Pim blurted out. Her mother gave her the look. Pim smiled in triumph, yet went back to pumpkin gut gathering in silence.

"So, your mom didn't -"

"My mother and I," Phil's mom took a deep breath, "had a very complicated relationship. As far back as I can remember, she was very over protective."

"Probably because you - you - were sick and losing pieces from when you were a baby."

"Probably. Just made me want to date Lloyd more, and Lloyd, he showed me he cared without treating me like someone who needed to be cared for. He listened, you know?"

Nodding, Keely was ignoring the creepy jack-o-lanterns now and hanging on Barbara's every word. It wasn't hard at all to imagine herself as Barbara and you-know-who as Lloyd. All of a sudden, Keely realized that Phil's mother was a rebel - against her mother, anyway. Where Phil's grandmother was more concerned with "what," rather than "who," Barbara Speckle enjoyed being seen as a who, and not a what. Lloyd did that. That he irritated her mother by emptying out their larder of spray food cans with his bottomless pit of an appetite was just icing on the cake.

"My mother finally issued me an ultimatum to drop the loser for the winner."

"What did you do?" wide eyed Keely had to know.

"What could I do," Barbara revealed. "I agreed."

Phil would be the first to testify that it's rare that Keely Teslow finds herself at a loss for words. This was one of those times. Barbara smiled.

"Breathe, Keely," she laughed. "I dumped Rex and married Lloyd." Yes, he had wooed her without being rich or a phony or even all that quick in the thinking department. Barb married the snorts-when-he-laughs, smelly footed, mouth-harp playing, nice, gentle Lloyd and, together, they were mostly happy. Though her mother never let Barbara and Lloyd forget the astrosurgeon Barbara let slip through her fingers, Barbara never gave her mother's warped interpretation of her relationship with Rex any credence, particularly when Barbara would think back to Rex's attempts to stick her with the nickname "Meathead."

"Mostly?" questions Keely. No one had ever asked Barbara that before.

"Well, there was my mother still. I don't think she really didn't approve of Lloyd so much as never accept me for who I am. She wanted the perfect little girl." Pim's eyes looked up. "But every daughter is an original, perfect on to herself, and it's her mother's duty to help her grow up into whom she's going to be, not anyone else's expectations of what she should be, do, or marry."

There, in that very moment, Pim understood her mother, why she was mostly calm despite whatever new shenanigans Pim stirred up. Pim's mother, and through her example, her father, loved her for who she was, is, and would become. A strange feeling ran through Pim Diffy, she became all teary-eyed and the corners of her mouth curved upward in a less than menacing grin. Love, Pim later analyzed, equated to mostly unconditional love. Now, the only question was how to make big bucks off of it.

Curious Keely was about to ask more probing question when everyone looked to the backyard where the commotion was coming from.

"Hommina, hommina, hommina!" stammered Mr. Hackett, pointing at the headless body racing around the picnic table, followed closely by Mr. Diffy with a bucket he was trying to fit back on top of it's neck. In the garage's doorway Keely spotted Phil trying to figure out a way to explain his way out of this one. This was probably very normal behavior in 2121, but here? How could Phil ever be interested in her, a 21st Century girl? And over a century's separating them - talk about an age difference. How could she ever make Phil mostly happy?

She thinks of Mr. and Mrs. Diffy and how different life must be with, um, Mrs. D's noggin in one room while her body is playing keep away outside. Mrs. Diffy did indeed have a good head on her shoulders ... most of the time. Why not ask her?

"Mrs. Diffy?"

"Yes, Keely?"

"You and Mr. Diffy seem," Keely looks again at the chaos unfolding in the backyard, "made for each other."

"Especially below the neck for me," Barb quips.

Keely swallows hard. Evidentially, there are lots of things she still doesn't know about the Diffys. "Well, how do you, um, that is, er ... I know you're mostly happy, but."

"But what?"

"Well ... men have certain ... needs. Doesn't your husband ever want to - to ..." Keely could finish the thought aloud, but she didn't need to. Barb got the idea. Pim covered her ears and hummed loudly. She knew what was coming next, what always came next.

**"Oh, I wouldn't worry, Keely. Take it from me: if there's one thing I've learned after all my years of marriage, it's that all a woman needs to please her man is a little head."**

**:D**


End file.
